


Remote Possibility

by GentleHum



Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Joike, M/M, Post-Series, nearly unbelievable cluelessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6917083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentleHum/pseuds/GentleHum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael J. Nelson once said that the biggest perk of being the head writer for MST3K was getting to hold the remote. He never specified which remote, though. Suburban, middle-aged, mechanically incompetent, clueless yet lovable fictional space dad Mike stars in this short short story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remote Possibility

Mike threw his keys on the coffee table. “Joel?” he called. The 'bots were already in the kitchen, heads in the fridge.

“In the bedroom,” the answer came down the stairs.

“No spoiling your dinner, you two,” Mike said walking into the kitchen. He gently moved Crow aside to grab a beer. “And close the refrigerator. You're letting all the cold air out.”

“Whose turn is it to cook tonight?” Tom asked, turning his dome toward Mike.

“Mine.”

“Keep looking, Crow. There's got to be something edible in here!” The 'bots yanked the fridge door open even wider. Mike shook his head and took a long pull off the bottle.

“There's two slices of leftover pizza. You can have that to hold you over until I ruin dinner.” 

Joel's voice interrupted. “Hey Mike, come up here? I could use an extra set of hands.”

“On my way. Remember guys, 30 seconds for the pizza, not three minutes.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Crow grumbled. “Dibs on the pepperoni slice!”

“No way, dickweed, you always pick off all the pepperoni anyway!” Tom shot back. 

“I like eating it last! Besides all the grease runs off and flavors the crust...” Crow's voice faded slightly as Mike reached the top of the stairs. He stopped at Cambot's doorway to wave hello to the little 'bot before entering the master bedroom. Joel was standing on the bed, the ceiling fan above his head partially disassembled. Mike took another swig of beer and offered the bottle to Joel.

Joel jumped off the mattress and grabbed the beer from Mike's hand. “Thanks.”

“So what's wrong with the fan now?”

“Same old same old. Keeps turning on and off by itself. I thought maybe the battery in the remote was dying and that could be causing the problem, but I can't find it anywhere to check. So I climbed up here to make sure the antenna on the receiver and the rest of the wiring was OK. Everything looks good.”

“How come I never see this happen?”

“Dunno.” Joel took another drink then handed the nearly-empty bottle back to Mike. “But it happened this morning when you left for work and again right before you came home. Thing turned on and off about four times each time. I want to get it working before summer really starts.”

“We could just get a new one if it's not working right, you know,” Mike said. Joel gave him his patented bored look, then scrambled back onto the mattress. “Sorry. But you know if _you_ can't fix something, it can't be fixed.”

“Speaking of which, help me out. Hold the housing in place while I put the screws back in.” Mike drained the last of the beer then hopped up on the bed. They made quick work of the job and tested the fan, which behaved itself. Joel shook his head.

“C'mon downstairs. I've got to get dinner started before our darling children decide to take matters into their own hands. And if you help, maybe they won't complain as much,” Mike added hopefully.

“What are we having?” Joel asked.

“I have no idea. Maybe spaghetti? I don't feel like getting too complicated.”

“Not to mention it's one of the few meals you don't usually screw up.”

“Love you too, Joel.”

 

The 'bots were on the couch, flipping through the channels. Crow had a smear of pepperoni grease on top of his beak. Joel went over to turn the TV volume down and noticed the white oblong on the coffee table.

“Hey, where'd this come from? That's the ceiling fan remote! It wasn't here earlier.” Joel looked at Tom and Crow. “You guys haven't been playing with this, have you?”

“Playing with what? That remote?” Tom asked. “No, that's for the car. You know we don't touch anything _on_ the cars, _in_ the cars, _around_ the cars, _near_ the cars, or having anything to do _with_ the cars unless you or Mike are there.”

“This isn't for the car. This is for the ceiling fan in our bedroom. Why do you think it's for the car?” Joel asked.

“Because Mike uses it to lock and unlock the car doors. Or at least he tries to, before he gives up and swears and ends up using his key while he complains he's gotta get new batteries for it,” Crow explained. Mike was very, very quiet.

Joel wiped his hand down his face. “Mike, honey, how long have you been using the 'car door remote'?” Mike heard the unspoken air quotes. He turned red.

“Ummmm, about a week?”

“That would be about the time the ceiling fan started acting up. What a coincidence.”

Mike turned redder and twirled the empty beer bottle between his hands. “I think I'll start dinner,” he mumbled, and walked to the kitchen.

Joel sighed and followed, but not before pocketing the remote.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember: these are the characters, not the real people! I'd feel pretty sorry for Mike if he was anything like how I write him.  
> MST3K is a trademark of Satellite of Love, LLC. No infringement intended, I'm sure as heck not making any money, and if I did, I'd probably just buy more MST3K and RiffTrax stuff, anyway.


End file.
